Angels Scythes Sundering
by JamdoesWarhammer
Summary: It is the Thirty-Ninth Millenia. A world has fallen to darkness, in response, the Angels Scythes Space Marine Chapter are dispatched to investigate. When their initial force is shot down, a dark web is sure to be revealed. But what malignant threat is present?
1. Chapter 1

**Note and Disclaimer.**

**I do not own Games Workshop, Black Library, Forge World or any of their properties. I only own my fan made art, characters and chapter. Please support GW and other official property owners.**

**This novel takes place during the year 289.M39, some two millennia before the present years of the M42.**

'We're hit, right wing is shredded, Racine! Rig, dismount at the rig!' Barked the pilot of the craft, voice like a dozen grinding gears.  
'I see it, Enteth. Helms on brothers. Hold on, hold on!'  
'Racine,' came a voice. 'The turbines are down and the fires are spreading on this side.' Anything else the voice was saying was lost to the alarm claxons and a roaring explosion.  
'Zolan, helm on. Do it little brother or by the Emperor-'  
The Thunderhawk lurched, sending Racine into a staggered fall.  
'By the Throne, we've lost the entire right wing!' Enteth shouted, his voice barely audible.  
'_At this rate, this storm will kill us before the enemy will_.' Brother Kellcar said over the squad vox-net.  
'Pilot, we need to land. Now. Can you bring us down or not?' Racine shouted, placing his snarling helm over his head.  
'_Negative, Veteran Sergeant. Wait, I see a platform attached to the rig. I'll try to bring us in_.' Enteth said over the vox.  
'Do it then, or we are all dead.'  
'_Brace, brace! We are going down._'  
Enteth's warning was little more than a courtesy. The Thunderhawk landed hard, skidding across the landing platform before it stopped on the edge. Racine felt a terrible wrench as he felt the platform under him buckled and tore. Then he was flung upside down, the rear embarkation ramp raced up to meet jim, and the sound of a second impact and explosions sent him off to a sudden, silent darkness.

Consciousness returned, a sharp transition from nothingness to mayhem. Racine's eyes opened, and his mind engaged.  
He was on the floor, no, the roof of the upside down Thunderhawk. Alarms wrung in his ears as smoke clouded his vision. He turned it out, focusing on his helm display. Red alert runes flashed on his display, warning of minor injuries. A quick check indicated that his brothers still lived, though the runes indicated Zolan and the pilot amber.  
He searched for his weapons, his bolt pistol was holstered and his power sword was still slung in its ornate scabbard at his hip.  
Racine pushed debris from his left arm, then rose into a fighting crouch on what remained of the roof. A quick glance showed him that the gunship had slammed into a building attached to the rig, probably a warehouse for promethium, punching through the the structure's explosions had torn open the Thunderhawk's hull, exposing the right side to the warehouse interior. Racine stood, fires burning all around, choking smoke obscuring wreckage and rubble on every side. There was no sign of anyone else.  
'Brothers,' he voxed. 'Report.'  
Rubble shifted to his left, lumps of ferro and rockcrete tumbling down to stack up again. Kaito, his second, hauled himself free, blue eye-lenses set in a white helm. Wordlessly, the younger warrior pulled his boltgun free of the rubble.  
'_Racine_,' came a vox-distorted shout from outside the torn Thunderhawk. Enteth's voice, shriller than the sergeant remembered it being.  
Racine and Kaito hurried through the wreckage towards the source of the shout. On their way, they noticed the stacked up crates labeled with hazard markings.  
They found Enteth pinned under the wreckage of the gunship's left wing. Together, Racine and Kaito dragged the pilot free of the wreckage.  
'Blood of the Forgotten One, that's a lot of blood.' Kaito said, voice like a whetstone.  
Enteth growled, failing to form words.  
'I have you brother, looks bad.' Kaito remarked.  
'_What… happened_?'  
'You managed to land us on the landing platform, the edge to clarify. Then we clearly tipped over it. Thus, our current predicament.'  
'_Throne, it's broken_.' Enteth yowled as he leaned on Kaito. 'It burns, like the flames of an Exterminatus.'  
Racine blink-clicked runes now with a steady stream of returns, his squad confirming that they continued to live. Quickly, quietly, they rallied around their squad commanders.  
'The crates are secured, for now,' said Zolan, his red helm cracked at his belt and head covered with a sheen of blood. 'Good to see we all still live.' He nodded to Enteth.  
Vathar, the squads heavy bolter bearer, walked into the group, black paint scratched away in some places. He was broad, with a bull-neck and shortish, stout legs. Even out of his war-plate, he was formidable. It was partly the reason he was known as the 'Bull' to his brothers.  
'Kaito, hold him up. 'Racine said as the squad gathered around him.  
Enteth growled as he was raised to his full height. 'Kellcar, remove his helmet whilst I deal with this.' Racine commanded.  
Racine pulled the armour around Enteth's knee as far as he dared. 'Whatever you are doing brother, please finish up.'  
Racine pushed the armour back into place. 'Your armour and leg is wrecked. You won't be walking on it anytime soon.' He pulled a vial from a pouch at his hip. 'Raise your neck brother, this will stem the pain.'  
'_Don't waste it on me, Veteran Sergeant. Please, I think I can manage a little scratch_.' Enteth snorted.  
'The crash will have weakened the warehouse, also,' said Acherman, the youngest of the squad. 'We don't want whatever is in those crates blowing up in our faces.'  
'Vathar, Kellcar, spread out and stand guard,' said Racine. 'I'll join you. Kaito, put down Enteth and scout our location and find us a way out of here before it comes crashing down on us. The rest of you, get whatever equipment you can salvage, one minute.'  
Flames continued to burn. Waves of heat rolled over Racine. The structure of the warehouse groaned and shook around him, air whistling in to feed the fire. To his right, a string of loud bangs rattled like gunfire, causing him to raise his bolt pistol in search of targets. As his brothers laboured to gather ammunition, he felt the warehouse shudder.  
Brother Arcan came to his side. His bolter was mag-locked to the underside of his power pack, across his chest he wore a bangalore of frag and krak grenades. The rest of Squad Racine had begun to spread out into a guard formation, crouched amidst fire-lit wreckage and the nearest support beams, awaiting orders.  
'We managed to get everything we needed, Sergeant. The rest we can leave.'  
'Very well-' began Racine, only to be interrupted as solid rounds spanked off of his black power armour. At the same, strong, clear voices were raised to call out orders, they sounded like the kind a platoon sergeant would his guardsmen.  
'Enemy contact,' he shouted. 'All helms on!'  
At once, his warriors raised their weapons and pushed outwards, scanning for targets amongst the smoke and flame. Racine's enhanced vision pierced the gloom, he picked out the silhouettes of his unknown assailants, crouched behind a short wall.  
Over the vox-net, Racine gave out his orders.  
'Arcan, take Enteth to the rear then draw fire from Bull. Zolan, flank right. I will go left.'  
As his squad acknowledged and Arcan's blter ceased to bark, Racine was moving. He ran low, drawing his power sword from its scabbard.  
Racine ceased his low run and raised his bolt pistol, taking aim at the closest assailant. The man's equipment was battered and battered. His autogun and armour bearing the same scratches that any PDF trooper would. He seemed clean and baby faced by even his kinds standard.  
The baby faced trooper vanished in an eruption of viscera as Racine placed a bolt-round through his neck and blew it open. Blood jetted, and his comrades stumbled to raise their weapons in response. Racine raised his bolt pistol and shot one of the trooper's in the head.  
He pushed forwards, blocking the butt-blow with the side of his vambrace and stabbed the last trooper through the chest. Zolan shouted a warning. 'Look out!'  
The sergeant glanced over his shoulder - and saw a heavy weapons team setting up a heavy bolter. Besides them were others, they began to set up more heavy weapons, one team carried a massive energy weapon - a lascannon - linked by thick cables to a power supply being dragged across the rubble strewn floor.  
Racine brought up his pistol and fired in a single motion. His aim was true, and the bolt-round sped right at the troopers forehead.  
The flat thud of bolter-fire joined the cacophony of autogun's, guns began to glow hot as they increased their tempo of fire.  
'_Racine,_' Kaito voxed. '_Exit located, transmitting._'  
A rune appeared on Racine's cartholigh, just a few dozen meters from the downed Thunderhawk.  
'Arcan and Zolan, cover the right. Vathar, Kellcar, cover left. The rest of you, rally on Kaito. Then cover their retreat.'  
Racine spotted another group of troopers making their way through the smoke. He fired at them only to have his pistol run dry. Turning, he ejected the spent magazine to slam home a fresh one.  
Racine found Enteh and began dragging him towards his squad, he found them - minus the rear-guard- standing around a lift shaft. The door hinges had been wrecked, before them the iron-slab of a door was collapsed.  
'Service ladder,' Kaito said. 'It should take our weight. But I'm not sure about Enteth.'  
'Leave me, brothers. I can still draw their fire from you as you escape.' The pilot said he was missing his helm.  
'Acherman take his arms,' the vetrean sergeant said. 'We'll carry him down-'  
'With all due respect, brother, no you will not.' Enteth dragged himself upright. 'Just give me a fresh magazine and prop me up so I have a good field of fire. I'll cover your withdrawal.'  
'Go.'  
Racine looked to the rear-guard, he saw Arcan take glancing bolt-round to the shoulder, it detonated just short of the chapter badge - two scythes on a field of black. He shook his head and looked to Acherman.  
'Give Brother Enteth a spare magazine,' he said.  
Enteth nodded in thanks. 'I'll put them to good use, brothers.' With his free hand, he placed the magazine in a pouch on his still working leg. 'The damned traitorous filith will know they shot down the wrong Thunderhawk when I'm done with them. Now, drag me to just behind the cockpit.'  
Acherman placed a hand on the pilot's shoulder and did as requested, uttering words from Litany of Remembrance. 'Forgotten One keep you, brother. In this life, and at the side of He on Terra. Forgotten One guide your aim…'  
'Brothers,' Racine called over the vox-net. 'Rally on me.'  
'Kaito, go down half way, with luck they will think we went to the bottom. Vathar, Kellcar, follow after him. Arcan, Zolan setup trip-wires with some frag grenades.'  
Around him, his brother's guns roared. Racine raised his bolt pistol and fired with them, punching the enemy from their feet. Acherman rejoined them as Kellcar went down, he sent a rune to the vetrean, informing him that he had made it. Enteth did not open fire yet.  
Kron was punched off his feet by a direct hit to the plastron. The marksmen hauled himself upright, Aquilla cracked, blasting his would-be-killer with a well placed bolt-round.  
'Arcan, Zolan, Kron, down you go.' One by one, the three named warriors followed their sergeants command. The rear guard knelt behind wreckage and rubble, snapping off shots at targets of opportunity  
'Their numbers and arms are increasing,' noted Arezon, last of the squad.  
'Then start aiming,' said Enteth from his concealment.  
Now only Racine, Acherman, Arezon and Enteth remained.  
'Kaito?' Racine voxed.  
'We're all here,' replied his second. 'We are ready to move on your command.'  
'Squad,' Racine said to his squadmates. 'We're coming down hard. Arezon, Acherman drop first. I'll follow right after you.'  
He looked to Enteth who nodded. 'Come and get me you traitorous lap dogs! I am Enteth of the Angels Scythes, now face my wrath!' He challenged, taking him and firing one bolt at a time.  
Racine ran for the lift shaft and leapt into the darkness beyond.  
He could still hear Enteth as he fell. Racine grabbed the edges of the service ladder, sparks began to cast small light as the ladders slowed his fall. Below Racine, a cone of light flashed at him. Racine followed it, he pushed himself off with his arms and legs as hard as he could.  
He rolled as he landed, slamming into something, a wall then. He was lifted up by Kellcar.  
'The shaft is coming down, I think those crates are beginning to go off.'  
Racine ran, taking point  
Racine stopped at a station of stacked-up barrels. The Bull and Arezon took up guard guard stations while the rest of Squad Racine checked their magazines and weapons.  
Kaito pulled out a hand-held auspex, swinging it about the chamber. 'The enemy are all around us,' his white helm turning his whetstone voice rough. 'They will be upon us soon, there seem to have been more than we anticipated.'  
'Acherman, Arcan, take point. Arezon, Zolan rear. Forwards.' Racine commanded.

The squad made it to a processing block before they encountered more defenders. Defence troopers pressed themselves up close against bulkheads.  
Racine pressed himself up against the wall next to the block's hatch. Acherman and Arcan were already in the block, flanking the defenders, forcing them into the centre of the room. Bolt-round shredded armour and flesh. Racine picked out one with a vox-caster, he picked him out and said, 'Secure that.' And fired.  
Squad Racine flooded the chamber, replacing their bolters with their combat knives and going to work.  
'Kaito, get on that and tell me what you can. We hold here for now. With luck, they won't want an update from that squad anytime soon.'  
'Brother-Sergeant?' Asked Acherman. 'Do we consider all defence troopers as enemy contacts?'  
'Until we are told otherwise by Captain Armen, then yes. We can expect a response from the Captain in six Terran standard hours. Until then, we cut as deep into whatever cancer has taken hold here. We stap at the heart and paralyse it before anymore of ours must be sacrificed.'  
Racine removed his dark green Mark IV helm, revealing a patrician face of dark blond hair and eyes of polished jade. 'For the Forgotten One!' He called one of the Chapter's war cries.

**Afterword.  
Finally, I am finally writing something about my fan Chapter the Angels Scythes. Now, as noted above, this story is set in M39. I did this because it means less of the wider cannon to worry about. Also, some will have noticed the use of helm colours. Helm colours denote rank in a squad, red line battle-brother, white, second in command of squad and green sergeant. Dark green vetrean. Now, until next time, I have been Jam.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

They descended on a lift-platform, a broad platform they had found in an adjacent chamber to the block where they had killed the defence troopers. Lumen strips had been placed in the walls at regular intervals, bright enough to light only the edges of the platform.  
Squad Racine were all there, minus Enteth. Vathar, Acren and Kaito sat apart from their brothers; the Bull was looking over his weapon; Acren was organising the grenades of his bangalore; the squad second listening in over the vox-caster.  
The platform began to shudder to a stop. Racine rose from his crouch, he had been talking of squad formation with Acherman and Zolan. Now he drew off, and drew his pistol and sword.  
'Form up, formation Calestus,' he ordered, the squad dispersed around the platform in firing crouches.  
'I'm not picking up any lifesigns.' Kaito said, holstering the auspex and picking up the vox-caster. 'Nothing on short-range vox.'  
'Good, Zolan, take point. Advance.'  
Squad Racine marched into the darkness for over a kilometer. When they did stop, it was before a giant bulkhead, labelled as L-PLATFORM XXVI along with a worn out hazard strip before it.  
'No hostile readings,' said Kaito.  
'I'll get this open.' Racine said, replacing his weapons. There was a small box next to the bulkhead, inside where a number of switches and icons. 'To be a Techmarine.'  
Kaito linked the vox-caster with his helm once more. Again, Long-range vox was silent.  
The bulkhead began to open, slowly, grinding gears pulled the bulkhead into the wall. Racine drew his power sword from its scabbard.  
'Squad,' he called. 'On me. We have a lot of distance to cover, and a lack of information to make up for.'  
He stepped beyond the hazard strips of the bulkhead, silently examining the space beyond.  
Beyond the bulkhead was a large terminus, a space so large that three Land Raiders could move along with space to spare. The ceiling was crystalflex, above which was the rig, being hit by angry waves. Just like the lift-platform, the terminus was lit with lumen strips, though these seemed to be more illuminating than their smaller variants.  
The terminus was lined by ferrocrete walkways and maglev tracks. Loading and unloading platforms, Racine concluded. More hazard stripes marked the border of the platforms.  
'Sergeant,' called Kaito from a small structure at the corner of the left platform. 'I have a small map of maglev routes.'  
'Pass it here, brother.' The map was indeed small, it was in better condition than Racine would have expected it to be. 'Maintenance tunnels. Closest is nearly a mile down the right platform. If we take it, then we should come out into an active maglev tunnel.'  
'Zolan, run ahead and confirm this. The rest of you, form up.'  
Squad Racine ran on, the minutes ticking by. Suddenly, Zolan came to a halt, one hand raised. Immediately, the squad dropped into fighting position, sighting for targets. 'What is it, Zolan?'  
'The maintenance tunnel. And a few rodents.'  
Racine moved to take Zolan's position. With a mute click, runes in a control panel turned green. Locking bolts disengaged, the hatch slid back and the tunnel beyond was revealed.

Kneeling beside the lip of the ladder, Kellcar and Kron helped Varath up into the tunnel with his heavy bolter. He was the last up.  
Racine rose to his full height. 'We go down this passage way, until we find something that will take us into the hive proper. Kron, Arezon, take point. Take care to find anything helpful. Kaito, besides me. The rest of you,' he turned to them. 'Two by two.'  
So ordered, Squad Racine moved on.

They moved at an Astartes jog, fast enough to eat up distance but slow enough to be wary of sudden threats and potential assets. Eventually, Kron stopped besides a map, a more accurate one than that carried by Racine.  
'Ah, here we go. If we take the left passage, we come up on an active route. Depending on how fast the maglev is going, we should be able to use it to get into the city.' Racine said, looking at Kron.  
He was an old blade, never one to make it higher than battle-brother. He knew his place, and was comfortable with it, Just as he was with his scarred mask of a face.

Deep beneath the jagged rocks of Hive Narkvan's island outcrops, some miles distant of the rig that had almost seen them all dead, Squad Racine hung from a gantry above a maglev track.  
'Sergeant Racine,' Kaito said. 'I have mentioned that I question you more… unique plans before, correct?'  
'Indeed you have, brother Kaito. But it is for that reason I was promoted to the First, was it not?' Racine said, patting his helm.  
'And yet I find myself wondering.' He snorted, a rough sound compared to his voice.  
'Fear not brother, if they detect us we can quickly dispose of them.'  
Kaito nodded. 'If you insist.'  
'Are we clear on the plan?' asked Racine.  
'It is hardly complex,' voxed Acherman. 'Wait for the maglev to come under us, then we drop on it and rally on you.'  
'It is hardly that simple a matter,' said Racine. 'The train is likely travelling in excess of a hundred miles per hour, and is likely only the breath of two of us at most.'  
'And in the event the train is filled with hostile defence troopers?' asked Vathar, whose heavy bolter was hung to his chest by a firm strap of Quovuren snake hide, the creatures that lurked on the distant volcano world made excellent carry-straps for Astartes wargear.  
'Then we either kill them, or we jump off a speeding train. Whichever one works for you.'Racine said, getting a few laughs from his squad.  
'We can take the train a few miles before the first active platform. It should slow to acceptable speeds a mile or so before we reach it.' He looked around at his brothers. 'Trust in your brothers. And let the Emperor and Forgotten One guide you all.'  
His brothers gave their appreciation in murmurs, drowned out by the rumble along the tracks. Overhead, glow globes began to swing about frantically. The gantry to which the clung began to vibrate, emitting a tinny moan as metal slapped against ferrocrete walls.  
When it came, the train whipped past Racine lightning fast.  
'Now,' called Racine, blink-clicking a series of confirmation runes.  
As one, Squad Racine lepat from their gantry.  
Racine dropped, and the train hit him like a Caestus Assault Ram in the atmosphere at full speed. He managed to wrap a hand around the lip of a carriage. The metal bent, but held, allowing the sergeant to right himself.  
'Sergeant, up here,' voxed Vathar. Racine looked up and saw the Bull hunkered down with his heavy bolter aimed towards the front of the train. 'Perfect kill zone, less they can climb the sides.'  
'Agreed,' said Racine. Joining his brother.

Kaito was the first to arrive, vox-caster in hand, he slid wordlessly into position with bolter raised. Arezon and Arcan came next, bangalore wrapped tightly around the Pax Imperialis of his armour. Zolan, the last of them to arrive, took up position towards the rear.  
Kaito tapped Racine's shoulder, whipping a fine sheet of dust from the Chapter badge. 'I have something on the civilian and military vox-nets, they've mentioned Thunderhawk and Enteth.,' he said grimly.  
'Patch it in for us,' commanded Racine.  
Doing as told, Kaito connected the caster to a port in his armour. 'I'll see if I can boost the signal.'  
The first few words were inaudible, then with startling clarity words banged over the vox.  
'_Dear people of Vatrek, hear me and hear the words of One Truth!__'_ The voice was heavy and accented, it was also that of a mortal. '_We have eradicated vermin that have been sent by the False One! Look, look I say upon that which we have achieved!_' There was a large roar that followed the mortal man's pronunciation, cheering.  
'What is it, what are they cheering at?' Questioned Arezon.  
'Something which bodes poorly for our lost brother,' Racine answered.  
'We have destroyed the False One's False Angels before they even set foot upon our sacred world.' The man said triumphantly. So on, it went.  
'Perhaps they only have pict-captures?' Arezon hazard, no one answered him.  
'We are coming up on our stop brothers,' said the Bull.  
'Good then, brothers, ready yourselves.' Racine said lifting himself wary of the slowing train.  
'On my mark, jump. Three… Two… One…' Racine pushed off, falling into the darkness beyond.

**Two Chapters posted in one day, damn I am proud of that. So, the first Chapter was written up just short of a week ago, then fixed up, this Chapter is the product of today (post day) and a night of tea-filled madness. Until next time, I've been Jam.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three.**

Smoke rose above the rig designated as Omkara-three-five-Gamma in a grey horsetail.  
Alarms were still sounding, fire-suppression servitors were going to work and the rig garrison had moved in to isolate the area and hold back labourers from the wider rig and nearby transit station, who had come out to see what had occured.  
Zyrol's landcar drove along the lane reserved for Administratum officials, an automated gun-servitor spun about to track the landcar's approach. Zyrol's chauffeur keyed the vox code, and the gun-servitor spun back to the crowd as it acknowledged Zyrol's right to proceed.  
In the restricted area around the collapsed warehouse, the walkways were empty, except for emergency teams guiding the lobotomised servitors.  
'What are we looking at?' Zyrol asked his aid, a PDF captain named Tarshin, was monitoring the information on a data-slate.  
'The pict-captures indicate a transport, of a sort. Big, bulky, it seems a bit big if you asked me.'  
'I wasn't, what pict's are you looking at?'  
Tarshin passed the data-late to Zyrol. 'It landed on a platform, then slipped off?' he questioned. 'Have this cross referenced with our records, we could be looking at Imperial subjugation forces here.' Zyrol ordered.  
'Certainly, sir,' said the aid.  
The landcar came to a halt, as it did so, Zyrol was already reaching for the door handle. His reinforced boots crunched shattered glass, for once, he was glad that his job required an inscessent degree of safety wear. Too-long armed servitors were firefighting amidst the collapsed warehouse, blasting water from shoulder-mounted cannons.  
'Well then, let us get to work then.'

The tunnel took them up another maintenance shaft, then through a labyrinth of walkways, crawlways and pipeline gantries. As they navigated them, they passed close to the outskirts of the ironclad skin of the hive, indicated by the crash of waves outside. They paused in an abandoned encampment, where water dripped from the cold pipes.  
'_Area secured__,_' Kaito's voice cut over the vox-net from ahead of the squad. '_The next chamber is clear._'  
'Acknowledged,' Racine replied. 'Hold position. We are joining you.'  
The squad second and Bull had led their brethren into the tunnels linking the maglev tracks to the city maintenance ducts. They had encountered no sign of enemy presence. Kaito gad halted their advance in the pair of chambers, the single largest chambers in the underground network. He checked the chronometer in his display, over three hours till captain Alcaetus would start Company-wide deployment.  
He led his squad forwards, along winding corridors, dirt covered plasteel gantries. Then, they found Kaito held up against a corner wall.  
'Racine, take a look at this.' Kaito said, stepping back from the wall.  
Racine took his second's place, scrutinising what he saw. Rcaine looked out over a wide processional. Blocks of great smelting complexes loomed over the craggy roadway, rising into clouds of steam and smoke. He saw mutant labour gangs working under augmented overseers.  
'There,' Kaito pointed to the false-cloud line. 'A way up.'  
Looking up from the labour gangs, Racine saw gantries of pipelines.  
'Quick and quietly,' Racine said.

Above the false-clouds, on the sloped gantry, great arc-lumens hung like sad, fading, cage stars. Huge ventilator units and generatorums hunched atop the smelting complexes sides. Recycled winds blew up, hiding the heavy bangs of their footsteps.  
They made the best time they could, edging carefully across the shaking gantry, bracing themselves against the hard winds that threatened to push them into the great furnaces below.  
Down there, Racine could still hear the heavy bangs of the work gangs fruitless leabours. They crouched above a chugging vent, Varath keeping watch with his heavy bolter.  
Racine reached the top of the gantry. 'Brothers,' he said. 'I welcome you to civilisation.'

**Ah yes, a short Chapter. Well fear not, for the next will be about average length and will take a look into the wider story. Till next time, I've been Jam.**


	4. Chapter 4

The bridge of the _Spectral Valour_ was a sepulchral place. Like an ancient tribal chiefs hut, its carved marble walls and columns reached towards the dimly lit ceiling that was decorated by banners that marked out the Fifth Company's past victories. Trophies and honours were placed in wall caverns, from relic texts read out by the Company Chaplain, to the Company standard.  
It was a place which reflected the Company Captain's grim aspect.  
Still after some three hours, the augur arrays were still chiming with results as the _Spectral Valour_ probed its new surroundings. The grainy, azure-blue display of the Vatrek system that hung above the hololith before the command throne slowly expanded outwards. Around the _Spectral Valour_ were three escort ships, hugging the larger ship like hunting beasts, ready to be let looe.  
Captain Alcaetus looked over the bridge once more. He examined the mural above the grand oculus, it displayed the Fifth before their decimation during the Reign of Blood. It had been that event that earned them their name; The Sons of Tribulation. After two centuries in command of the Fifth, he could name each brother and their past glories.  
He continued to examine the bridge. Above the Master of Auspex was the Banner of Restoration, it had been awarded to the then newly forged Fifth Company by High King Maximus himself, he who had led the Chapter through its darkest days.  
Pride stirred in Alcaetus' chest.  
He rose from his throne and spoke. 'Report, has Racine reported in?' he asked, his voice was a harsh rasp, the result of a toxin laced blade wielded by a dark eldar swordmaster that had scoured his vocal cords.  
'Negative, my lord,' reported a servitor hardwired into its console.  
Alcaetus felt his anger stir. That was unusual for Racine, they had served together in the vaunted First Company for a time. Alcaetus had led a Vanguard squad through ork held territory, fighting with righteous wrath. Racine had led an elite Terminator squad, fighting with nothing but sheer willpower to reach his brother. Good times, it had been things like that which made Alcaetus pick Racine as Fifth Squads new Sergeant.  
'We are still reading no contacts,' added the servitor.  
On the other side of the hololith the rest of Fifth Company's structure listened. Chaplain Kayne, brooding with his hands wrapped around his crozius, Voitek, the Codicer, stood with his hand near his force sword, flanked by the sergeants of the company's squads. Apothecary Geron and Techmarine Lygrin stood to either side of the assembled host. Only Sethron, the sergeant of the attached Scouts stood apart from the rest of the company, his sharp features caught by the hololiths light.  
'Vox transmissions from the planets surface indicate communication networks, military and civilian, are still functional,' Alcaetus began, depressing a rune which magnified Racine's flight path. 'Beyond a harsh storm blowing across the main hives southern rigs, nothing should have impeded Racine's journey.'  
'The secessionists know we are already upon them,' growled Sergeant Tarrek of Seventh Squad.  
'Do we have confirmation that a rebellious force is responsible for Brother-Sergeant Racine's absence?' First Sergeant Galenus asked.  
'Not that I can tell,' Voitek said before the Captain could answer. 'But as I and those that have assigned us this task have said, a darkness has fallen over this world, brother Galenus.'  
'If even you are unable to discern this, venerable brother, then that is enough for me to draw a conclusion,' Galenus said with a dip of his head.  
'Our initial plan will not need changing then,' Alcaetus said, bringing the display to the hive proper. 'We secure a landing zone near the governor's palace, here,' he indicated a building on the eastern flank of the city, high above the crashing waves. 'From there we secure the upper hives and then crush whatever insurrection is at heart here.'  
'I will gladly lead my Scouts in the search for our brothers,' Sethron said, joining his brothers around the display.  
'If a chance opens up to us, then I shall grant you freedom to do so.'  
'Now make your Squads ready for war,' Alcaetus commanded.

The door hissed as it closed behind Voitek, locking the Librarian in the darkness of his personal chamber. The only light came from the candles set into alcoves around the room, their flickering light passing over the deactivated lumens and adornments in the chamber.  
Most of the adornments that surrounded Voitek were centuries older than he. Of all the Codicerium - the collective term for his rank - he was the newest to the role. He had ascended from the Lexicanum barely a decade prior, and before that, he had served in such capacity for two score years.  
He remembered his ascension well, he had re-painted his armour - save his left knee - from the blue of Ultramar to the traditional black of his Chapter. Since then, he has seen much, both of the Materium and Immaterium.  
He ran a hand over one of the candles, it was a practise which helped him prepare himself for the coming task. The candle light faded for a moment, obscuring an open book on his workbench. Silence pressed on his deathiningly, the only sound present was that of his war-plates hum and the beat of the Valour's iron heart. His bonded-beast, the ankyrin he had named Taurux, had already departed, no doubt going to skulk about the serf's cantina. He inhaled, deep and hard, focusing on the psychic energies that permitted his chamber.  
Voitek removed both gauntlets before setting himself properly on the marble floor. He pulled out a piece of psyk-reactive wood, then, cutting it into stripes with his combat blade, placed it around himself at points reflective of a compass.  
It began with a static charge in the air, followed by the tang of ozone. He began to speak the Litany of Communion, one of the texts that his order alone knew. Slowly, at first, his physical senses faded and his sixth took sway. His muscles slackened, his eyes closed. His mind left his body and he was but a ghost leaving its shell.

_The sky was too dark, as if the stars had been swallowed by some supermassive abyss. The earth was iron-skin, as dark as dried blood, swallowing the pale light that lit the world. Smoke drifted across the shattered landscape, like a back pierced by deformed angular bones, pooling around the fading flames.  
The Angel fought something - hard to make out what it was, the view was blocked by a cloak of tattered crimson. He moved fast, faster than Voitek had expected for who he watched. Who did he see? A power sword cut down, slicing through meat like a warm knife through butter.  
Voitek's breath caught in his throat. Watching the Angel fight sent a thrill through his body, he imagined his second heart kicking into action. The clouds of dust above dissipated, revealing nothing more than eternal darkness. The dust picked off once again, before puffing again._  
This is the death of a world, _Voitek thought. _  
_The Angel pressed his attack, spinning once wielding his blade two-handed, his strikes quick and efficient. The blade struck.  
When the Angel fell, Voitek awoke._

He staggered as he rose, pulling himself up with his workbench. He pulled a cloth from a drawer, still damp with the water he had used to clean his blade. He rubbed it over his face, picking up the beads of sweat that had covered him.  
He turned to the basin next to his bench, he lifted his head, looking at his face in the mirror.  
He saw his face, death-white with the rays of his home sun and the burden of his gift. Golden locks that once fell lank where now drawn short, icy blue eyes now shun will the lightning of the Immaterium.  
_What have I become__?_ He asked himself.  
He turned and reached for his gauntlet, noting the ash where the psyk-reactive wood had been. He reached the gauntlet, flexing his fingers as he did so.  
That felt good. It was things like that which reminded him of what he was. Human. A transhuman yes, but at his core, he was human.

Brother Jerick knelt before the Ancient. Upon a plinth of sculpted rock from the tunnels of Mount Maximus, the Dreadnought Valefor stood. The ancient was a looming giant, both hands ended in piercing talons, under-slung storm bolters inactive and unloaded were vaguely visible from where Jerick knelt.  
Two more of the Ancients stood around the chamber. Once, when Jerick first joined the Fifth, there had been four. Now Khaulron rested after his second death.  
Part of Jerick almost prayed that the Ancients would not be needed.

**Afterword. Hello everyone who reads this story and… well this little part. I do not have anything smart to say at the end of this. I could say something like 'Behold, a Company of Space Marines of their mighty space boat.' But nah, I'm feeling lazy. Till next time, I've been Jam.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five.**

The Angels Scythes made themselves ready.  
Where they went to work preparing themselves in the fore embarkation bay, the clamour of readying weapons and the click of mag-locking weapons hung over the low melody of the mortal serf- and servitor-crews preparing the Company Thunderhawk. The fore embarkation bay was filled with First and Seventh Squads, along with the Scouts of their reserve detachment. The recycled air was filled with the musky clamour of oils, lubricants, sweat and promethium.  
Jerick flexed his gauntlet, watching the ceramite digits wrap and unwrap in perfect sync. He had done this before, on Num's World, Hope's Lament and a dozen other worlds, each time finding the repetitive action calming. It focused him before battle, when his mind wondered about the future clamour and bloodshed he would unleash.  
Most of those thoughts had been curtailed in the Eighth and Ninth Companies. But part of Jerick still clung to those bloody desires.  
He mag-locked his chainsword and bolt pistol to his hip. Around him the rest of his battle-brothers were likewise clamping their weapons and other arms to their armour, the embarkation bay was welcome to the short revving and idling of chainblades.  
'Clips,' Jerick ordered. His arming-serf, Corswal, stepped forwards and placed the spare magazines in the pouches around his hip. He noticed the small trophies he carried jiggle, scrimshaw honours. The small talons of the carrion birds of his home world, Britanica, hung from the edges of his shoulder guards. The remnants of an ankyrin youths tail-club - smaller than a mortal fist - hung from his chainswords pommel.  
'Helm,' he commanded again. Corswal struggled to lift the heavy Mark VII helmet, complete with the red of his rank, and gave it to him. Corswal had been his serf for nearly a decade, as long as he had been a member of the Fifth. He was spindly, unnatural for the serf's of the Scythes. A minor genetic deviancy, he had once tried to join the Chapter, but as was the case with many failed Aspirants, he had volunteered to join as a serf.  
'Lord Lygrin reports that the retinal display has been repaired, my lord,' Corswal said, his voice high and annoying.  
'Very good, Corswal, you may return to your other duties.'  
With a deep bow, the serf departed.  
Jerick watched his serf depart. As he did so, he saw his Company Captain arrive as well.

Alcaetus marched towards Sethron, weapons and helm mag-locked in place. He called the old warrior's name, 'Scout Sergeant Sethron,' he said. The Scout Sergeant turned from where he was examining his young warriors and nodded in respect.  
'Are your Scouts ready for their latest testing?' Alcaetus asked, casting his eye over the Scouts. They were becoming increasingly uniform - they were all carapace-armoured, covered in camoline cloaks. Some of the more rugged ones still carried the old tribal tattoos they had worn as youths, now they were finally fading. All of them had seen combat before, they wouldn't have been seconded to the Fifth otherwise.  
'They are ready, Captain Alcaetus,' Sethron said, casting an apprazing gaze over his Scouts. Seven future members of the Ninth Company, and perhaps, in time, Alcaetus' own. For a moment, Alcaetus remembered his own time in the Tenth. He struggled to hide the dark smile that threatened to break out.  
'That is well, Sergeant Sethron. You will be dropped around the flank of the hive, from then on, you will search for Brother Racine and Second Squad.'  
Sethron nodded. 'Very well, Captain. Just let me ready the grav-chutes.'  
'You will have plenty of time for that, brother. We still have one hour before Racine's deadline.'  
Sethron nodded grimly. 'Then Brother-Captain, I shall wait.'

Kellcar ran.  
The streets of the lower-hive, most of them with only flickering lumens and failing ventilation systems retaining power, opened up before him. Warrens of twisting iron mountains deep with shadows drew the Scythe in. He crossed rooftops in bounding leaps, smashing through plank-wood boards that blocked out doorways. He ran through voids where the once-young hive must have possessed grand markets.  
He ran to escape the hunters, the beasts that snapped at his heels, monstrous metal-men, all training their weapons on him. He was an engine without direction, a mind focused only on escape.  
He could not stop, not here. If he stopped, they would catch and kill him. What he had seen had caught him off guard.  
_They had been waiting for him and his brothers.  
Not even a mile into the lower-hive, they had been ambushed. There had been mortals, clad in the defence force uniform, but outfitted with lasguns and a flamer. They had not been started by the Scythes, waiting behind a prefabrication barricade.  
Zolan had turned the corner first, seeing the threat too late. Kellcar had turned the corner before Kaito, the last of them. They had raised their boltguns and fired. When the first mortal crumpled to the ground, they began to bleed.  
Giants clad in armour came out from alcoves. They carried boltguns, though instead of the aquila, these ones sported daemon-muzzles and hazard strips. They had fired as they revealed themselves.  
He saw Zolan tumble backwards, kicked off his feet by a bolt-round to the chest. He had raised his bolter to return-fire, but a second bolt to the head had ended his residence. Racine to a shot next, a bolt-round detonated on contact with his left shoulder guard.  
Arezon took a shot next. His left forearm detonated in a spray of metal, blood and bone fragments. That was when Racine gave them the order._  
'Scatter! Disperse!'  
_Doing as told, the Second Squad split up._  
That had been ten minutes earlier.  
Kellcar slowed himself at a corner, crouching he checked his boltgun. The sickle-magazine was still half-full. As the situation demanded, he replaced it with a fresh one.  
His bolt pistol came next, a full magazine was already in place.  
He opened the vox-link, short-range. 'Brothers,' he said. 'This is Kellcar. Is anyone hearing me?'  
No reply.  
He got to his feet, bringing his boltgun up. He ran into a run-down hab-unit seeing a brass idol of the Emperor. He nodded to it before speaking. 'Emperor, guide me in this moment.'  
He walked into the centre of the one-roomed hab-unit.  
It was a dilapidated wreck. Water damage had ruined the floor, mould clung to the roof and corners, covering the entire right side of the hab.  
Kellcar saw a small light blink on his cartholige. It blinked in-and-out three times.  
Either one of his brothers was in his area, or he was walking into a trap.  
He returned the three blinks then exited the hab-unit.

His journey through the warren was no faster than a mortal crawl. Whenever he thought he risked being discovered, he paused then waited before continuing.  
Finally, after several minutes of pausing besides a window-slit, he saw a shape appear.  
It was broad-shouldered and bull-necked. His ancient Mark VI war-plate was scratched in places, but the Bull did not look anymore hurt than Kellcar remembered him being.  
'Varath,' he said, voice low.  
The heavy bolter bearer turned in his direction, weapon raised. 'Kellcar. Is that you, brother?'  
Kellcar brought himself out from behind the cover he had been using. 'In the flesh, Forgotten One willing.'  
Varath marched towards his brother. Smacking his shoulder guard with his hand.  
'See anyone else?'  
Varath nodded. 'Saw Acherman with Kaito escape together. Racine, I can't be sure but I think he crawled away. The rest save Zolan, unknown.'  
'They had Traitors,' Kellcar said. 'Gunmetal, hazard strips, metal-men. Iron Warriors, has to be.'  
The Bull nodded. 'It looked like them, but they aren't known for cowering in alcoves. No, this stinks of some other Traitorous force. But for now, we can be certain of one thing. This world has fallen from the Emperor's Grace.'  
'Agreed.'  
Varath sat himself down on a collapsed stone column. 'I don't know what happened here, but it's a mess now.' He checked his heavy bolter before standing back up.  
'Our brothers may yet live,' he said. 'We find them, then we warn the rest of the Company.'  
Kellcar nodded. 'I'll take point.'

Xavien Cyban hauled the body through the Church of the Emperor Ascendent, sneering at the toppled marble statue. The body was not unlike him, if only by the art of gene-forging. Where it was black and trimmed in gold, he was gunmetal, trimmed in brass and marked with hazard strips.  
He had made the kill. A good one at that. Clean, efficient. If it had been left to the lies of Raguel, this one would be missing all of its limbs and chained to a wheeled cage for display.  
Cyban dragged the headless body up the one hundred stairs leading to the Deacon's office. When Warsmith Kyhrgun had eliminated the last planetary resistance, his Sorcerer Phex had selected the Church as the place for the coming ritual.  
Cyban did not like the Sorcerer, not even when they had fought together in humanities false Great Crusade as warriors of the Iron Warriors and Word Bearers. Now, as warriors of Warsmith Khyrgun's Iron Tempest's, that dislike had turned to disdain.  
He dropped the dead body limply before the Sorcerer.  
'Our lord wants them identified. You know them,' it was not a question.  
Phex knelt besides the dead Astartes body, examining the Chapter badge. 'Yes,' he hissed. 'They are far from their home. So far from where we last met, Scythe,' he chuckled. 'This one is a whelp, born from the Reign of Blood, when this precious Church,' he gestured with his hand. 'Nearly destroyed the Imperium. He is an Angels Scythes. A warrior without a gene-sire, how precious.'  
Cyban growled. 'Cease with your theatrics, Sorcerer.'  
'Very well, Cyban,' the hissing word was said like a curse. 'He was not alone I take it.'  
'Correct, that crashed Thunderhawk was his lots. A squad, including the pilot.'  
Phex nodded. 'The overseer's had not informed me that they found a Thunderhawk. Odd, no?'  
'Perhaps,' Cyban growled. 'Or they have learned not to come near you.'  
'His brothers escaped, correct?' Phex asked, ignoring the intended jab.  
'Correct, at least five.'  
'Sloppy,' Phex muttered. 'They will try to warn their brothers. Which will be in orbit. They so rarely travel in small numbers.'  
'And how then do you suggest we deal with them. The _Ironhold _is in no state to engage an enemy vessel, even one such as a strike cruiser. The orbital defences,' he snorted. 'You saw to them being rendered useless for the foreseeable future.'  
Phex nodded. 'Simple really, release your hunters. Kill the survivors and when their brothers come looking for answers, do what you do best. Kill them all.'  
Cyban looked to the body. 'Your not telling me something.'  
'Perhaps,' Phex said, ceasing his examination of the body. 'Broadcast it. Agitate his brothers, then they will come to you.'  
Cyban took the body by the arms.  
'And remember, _Lieutenant_ Cyban, they are ferocious when cornered.'  
Cyban left, ignoring Phex.

**Afterword and Review Response.  
Firstly, Auston123, thank you good sir. It is surprisingly relaxing to right this out at long last.  
Secondly, Toaneo07 Ver2.0, sadly no, these are not Dark Angel Successors, interestingly enough those two don't get along well. Mind you, we may have stolen from them.  
Afterword proper. Well then, we have at least one death, let us remember Brother Zolan, who died on the ground like all Loyalist lap-dogs. (Chaos Noises). Also, we have an introduction to all but the main antagonist, besides a name drop. Good progress, I hope. Till next time, I've been Jam.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six.**

Their path took them up a narrow tunnel, then through a maze of maintenance ducts and gantries. As they navigated them, they passed close to the subdermal layer of hive, and heard the groaning and creaking of aged iron bones. They passed through an abandoned warren, from which they circumnavigated a mag-lev platform swarming with workers.  
They came upon an encampment of the dead, defence troopers lay about in heaps of gore-stained uniforms. Close by, Kaito heard a wet sob and heavy breathing. He and Acherman picked through the encampment, taking the few grenades they found.  
Kaito and Acherman had been heading up since the ambush. The vox-caster had been ruined, a bolt-round had turned it into scrap metal.  
'What happened here?' Acherman asked.  
'I do not know. But whatever it was, I don't want to get sidetracked. We make for a vox-array then warn Alcaetus, nothing more.'  
As Kaito led on again, Acherman followed with a nod.

Arezon was dead, Arcan saw his dead brother chained and nailed to the great marble archway of a church, projected by a pict-screen overlooking a busy city square.  
'Sergeant,' he said, helping Racine take an overwatch position over the square.  
'I see him, Arcan.' Racine said grimly.  
The warrior known as Arezon was now but a desecrated husk. His armour had been torn in places, pulled apart by what looked like claws, revealing the scarification that had been inflicted upon his body. His skin had been torn from his body. His organs and muscles glistened bare to the false-light of lumen and glow-globes. Blood poured from him in tears, slipping through his ligaments and ruptured organs. His skull glistened, a sheen of glossy red covering a sphere of shattered bone.  
'We have no time to mourn him now,' Racine said, hauling himself to his feet. 'We have to carry on, we half less than an hour to make our warning.'  
Arcan helped his sergeant to his feet. 'Aye. I will take points.'

Cyban's hunters ran across the subdermal layer of the hive city. They bounced across vast distances on their hind legs.  
Many wore dirty overalls, each with the icon of the Ruinous Powers. The eight-pointed star of Chaos.  
From his distant observation post, Cyban smiled wryly. Soon the Angels would be gripped by his iron vise.

Voitek arrived in the embarkation bay, beads of sweat dripping from his brow. He seemed almost taken aback when Alcaetus turned to face him.  
'Voitek, brother. You seem dishevelled, have you found something amish?' Concern lased the Captain's words.  
'Perhaps, I am not entirely sure myself. I have seen a darkness fall upon this world,' he grimaced as he spoke again. 'Damnation, Alcaetus. I saw daemons walk upon the world below. Though I remain uncertain about the validity of my vision, I would act with the utmost care in this matter.'  
Alcaetus considered his words before he spoke. 'Very well, Brother Voitek. I would like you to prepare the necessary contingencies in the event we are engaged by the Nevermore.'  
Voitek sighed heavily as he spoke. 'It shall be done, Captain. Though until I can be certain that daemons shall walk the surface of the hive world, I shall be unable to truly prepare against their presence.'  
'Do your best, brother. The lives of a world and our brothers hang in the balance.'  
'I shall try, Alcaetus.' Voitek said, tapping the pommel of his sheathed blade in assurance to his captain.  
Another warrior followed the Codicer.  
He was known to Voitek as Brother Dyrael, second-in-command of Eight Squad. At his hip was mag-locked the blade of the Company Champion, the power sword Mortus. The blades maker, a Techmarine now long dead, had not been known for his naming conventions. He had been a dull, sardonic figure, even amongst his brotherhood.  
'Brother Dyrael,' Alcaetus beckoned the warrior forwards.  
Brother Dyrael of Eighth Squad came to kneel before Alcaetus, head held low. Voitek examined the warrior, his face was sharp and angular, rugged with age and scarification from his tribal upbringing. Blonde locks that once fell from his crown clung to his scalp.  
'Koth is dead,' Alcaetus remarked, his rasping voice somber. 'Slain by the Warboss Snagfist. You, Dyrael, are to succeed him. Do you accept this honour?'  
'I do, my lord Captain.' Despite his savage upbringing, Dyrael had a well cultured voice.  
With a hiss of pressure, Alcaetus removed his left gauntlet. With the force of a maul, the back of Alcaetus' fist crashed into Dyrael's cheek. 'As Company Champion of the Sons of Tribulation, let none now strike you unanswered.'  
'It will be so, my Captain.'  
Alcaetus nodded. 'Rise the, Champion Dyrael.'  
Alcaetus turned to his brothers. 'We depart in ten minutes, brothers. Ready yourselves.'

Something was coming. In all his years as attendant guard of the eastern walls secondary vox-array, Dandelion Macrov had never been so sure of something. His charges, six hard-wired vox-servitors and their attendant cogitator banks, were hissing out garbled binaric speech. Their death-white, partially nectised bodies were writhing in their stations, as their wires dangled from their repurposed eyes, ears and noses. One would occasionally emit a low, drooling low gothic sentence, an after effect of the taxing civilian vox-net.  
The vox-array was the main hub between the citizens and government of the world. Or it had in times past when man had ruled man. Now, it was a backup node in the event the main eastern wall vox-array went offline. In that event, civilian signals would end and military vox-nets would be all that the eastern wall heard.  
Marcov had been the attendant guard of the array for some twenty-three years, in that time he had faced off against a failed pro-Imperial insurgency and three minor infestations of razor-bats. He had seen three servitors over taxed to the point of burnout, but never had he seen all six act in such a manor before. It unnerved him. He was beginning to consider if he should call upon one of the tech-priests that the new planetary lords had permitted to live to inspect the servitors. If they all went down, then a riot would surely follow up.  
Marcove stood at his usual post, in the small low-walled room which let him oversee the status of the servitors.  
He cursed as E-SH3HR's rune blinked from green to orange. The servitor was, most likely, going to be replaced now. That meant six hours of uncoupling, recoupling and Martian hymns. When they turned from green to orange, it meant either an internal - servitor - error, or heavy vox-traffic. Either way, a servitor would likely be replaced.  
He marched over to the servitor, ready to depress the icon which allowed the unit to continue working, pressing it would siconnect it and call upon the priests. 'By the-' he stopped himself, partially out of the worry that he was being listened to by his new lords and because the servitor began speaking. It took him a few minutes to discern that the speaking was not just binary screech but low gothic words.  
'Error, signal error. Reconnection attempted. Connection protocol-'  
A screen turned red, then another and another. The servitors were all barking the same words as the first. Something shifted above Marcov. He reached for the las pistol at his hip, his fingers curled around it.  
Something dropped behind Marvov. Slowly, he turned to face it.  
A being stood in the center of the chamber. It was as tall as two well-built men, bedecked in power armour as dark as the shadows, its helm was a cream-white. It held an oversized gun in its hands, another smaller one hung in a holster at its hip. For a moment, Marcov thought it was one of the Iron ones. Then he noticed the chest plate. A winged skull sat upon its chest.  
The Space Marine marched towards Marcov, gun facing the riveted iron floor. Marcov staggered, he fell back as the Marine marched on.  
'Please. Please God-Emperor no.' He weeped, tears spilled down his face.  
The Marine knelt before Marcov, his vox-grill like the bars of a cage over a beats jaw. He raised Marcov's head with his left hand.  
'I am sorry,' he said, voice like a whetstone. 'But I must ensure that you do not warn our enemy.' He said and crushed Marcov's head.  
Kaito rose and turned to Acherman. 'Now brother, we can warn our Captain.'

**Afterword, so then, last Chapter of the month. Hope you all enjoy this one cause we are getting close to real combat. Yey. Well till next time, I've been Jam.**


	7. Chapter 7 Hiatus

**Chapter Seven**

Alcaetus shuddered in his restraints. The Thunderhawk gunship groaned as it touched the lip of the troposphere. Soon, the skin of the craft would be burnt clear with the heat of re-entry. A roar would fill the hold as they descended, only to be turned out by the Astartes Larmen's ear.  
'_Brother-Captain Alcaetus_,' the voice of the pilot wrung in his helmet. '_I have sent the signal as ordered, but am receiving no confirmation from the hive. How do you wish to proceed_?'  
'Send it again, brother, carry on for the hive's flank until the drop is complete.'  
The pilot sent his confirmation in the form of more shudders and groaning.  
A civilian vox-network screamed into life. It transmitted on the Chapter networks.  
'Brother-Captain?' Voitek asked.  
'Perhaps it is Racine.' As he answered patched into the network, the roar of mass-reactives echoed in his ears.  
'_Captain Alcaetus. If you are hearing this beware. Traitors a-are present. We are scattered. I am requesting t-t-that you deploy all-l Company forces against the enemy._'  
The voice was that of Kellcar of Racine's Squad.  
'Kellcar, who are the traitors?'  
'_The Ivth Legion, m-my-y captain. The I-Iron Warriors. I and Varath are holding a vox-array. We are under siege. Leave us captain. Save our brothers and avenge our de-_'  
The link was cut out. 'Sethron,' Alcaetus said. 'Enemy are Fourth Legion. I want you to drop. Now.'  
The ramp rumbled down, and with care Sethron attached the grav-chutes to his Scouts before jumping off himself.

**Afterword, ok, I know what you are thinking. Jam this is incredibly short. Well, I just want to say that this story is going on a two to three week hiatus. Reason, accidently deleted the plan for next few chapters, also i'm having fun working on my other two ongoing fics. But don't worry by next month I should have a Chapter for you all. Till then, I've Been Jam.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight.**

'Movement,' reported Alcaetus' pilot, magnifying the cockpit vid-feed and panning it across the hive flanks. Multiple autocannon anti-aircraft batteries were swiveling and tracking the gunship as it continued its descent.  
'Brother take us down,' Alcaetus commanded, rising from his harness.  
'At once captain, prepare for flak.'  
'Brothers,' said Alcaetus as he felt the gunship dip and accelerate. 'For the Emperor and the Forgotten One.'

The gunship circled around a small dilapidated landing-pad before the ramp opened. The anti-aircraft batteries had given way to smaller sentry turrets that broke into a chatter of gunfire as the ramp pened.  
The gunship could not land, that much was clear from the pad's condition alone. The pilot spoke, 'Prepare for a combat drop.'  
The pilot brought the gunship low and decelerated as much as he dared before lowering the rear ramp. As bolt and las flew, Alcaetus and his brothers leapt.  
Alcaetus' boots hit decking and he dropped into a roll. Softening the impact and coming up with blade in hand. He found himself a hands-width from a death fall. Checking his auspex feed, Alcaetus back-stepped from the edge, coming beside Champion Dyrael.  
'Voitke,' he called. 'Do you sense any of our erstwhile kindred?'  
The Codicier reared up from his crouch besides an Assault Marine, his force sword glowing with sun-white flame. 'I sense there dull minded cattle, brother. They will be upon us shortly. They wish to waste us before they make their own mark.'  
'Then let us meet them.'  
Running into the flat-topped spire that the pad was attached to, the captain ducked a splayed web of girders and found himself amidst the ruin of a command center. A labyrinthian complex of dundered floors and wrecked consouls. Bodies, or what were left of them, clad in tattered defence force uniforms, lay about under one another or hanging from hooks and banner poles.  
'Captain,' called over Brother Jerick. He and another Assault Marine, Brother Hydaen, were gathered around a hole in the floor. 'Their right below us sir. Might I suggest dropping a grenade down upon our hosts?'  
With a nod, Alcaetus tossed the younger Marine a frag grenade. The ringing of the grenade hitting the floor was followed by the scream of the cultists and the explosion which ended them.  
'Ready yourselves brothers,' Alcaetus commanded. 'Dyrael watches our centre, Voitek the right, I'll take centre. Sergeant Galenus, have your Tactical's form overlapping fire-lines. Sergeant Tarrek, wait in the rafters for the real killing.'  
'Of course, my captain.'

Cyban listened over the vox-channels. The Loyalists - the Angels Scythes as Phex had named them - had found the former PDF command centre. It had been a good fight. The spire had been turned into a fortress. It had reminded Cyban of the days before the Eye. Before they had been sent fleeing from Terra, whilst that fool Forrix had organised the retreat instead of organising the final push.  
The last of the PDF, those which had joined his lord's army, would be sent in first. Let them be the cattle for the slaughter.

When the dead were counted, the real fighting began.  
Iron Warriors, clad in burnished iron and brass, trimmed in hazard chevrons marched forwards. The first two, giants of shield-piston augmetic, targeted a brother of the First Squad and blasted him simultaneously. Another followed up, scanning for targets. Alcaetus broke into a run, firing his bolt pistol.  
He managed to knock one of the traitors off his feet with a trio of shots to the chest, but another killed Brother Pytol with a well placed visor-shot. Alcatus roared in anger, crashing headlong into the iron-man and running him through. Ripping his power sword down and free, Alcaetus swung it in a low arc and split his opponent in two. Sergeant Galenus killed the last of the three with a burst of semi-automatic bolt fire.  
'Tarrek,' Alcaetus called out as more Iron Warriors appeared. 'Tighten the noose.'  
With a roar of engines, the Assault Marines dropped. Propelled by the momentum of their jump packs, they went to work killing.  
A Terminator appeared amongst the Iron Warriors. Not what Alcaetus would have expected in a welcoming committee, but the Iron Warriors are not known for their laxity. The brute brought with him a thunder hammer, skull-chains rattled from it and his armour.  
He hefted it and swung it towards Voitek. Raising a shield of psychic energies, the Codicier repulsed the swing. 'Khorne will favour me with your skull,' rasped the Terminator. He redoubled his efforts. Once, twice, more. Finally the shield broke.  
'Enough!' roared Alcaetus through ruined lungs. He ran at the terminator, firing his bolt pistol as he went, they impacted harmlessly off the ancient power-armoured warrior. The Terminator turned, forgetting about the Codicier in a rage.  
'fool,' it rasped. 'Your marks are that of captain. Why have a witch-kin when Khorne can have your skull.' It raised its hammer in an over-head swing.  
'You are the fool here,' Voitek stated, pushing his force sword through the Terminator back. 'Now die.' Eye-lenses shattered, joints were set aflame, skin boiled. Fire and smoke leaked from the tome-armour as the Terminator fell dead.  
Examining the scene, Alcaetus said, 'Let us be gone. Before they send more fodder.'  
With that, the remaining Angels Scythes set off into the hive.

**Afterword, Ah, that feels great. Getting to continue this. And due to covid-19 (which can go F itself) that means more writing time, and less toilet paper. R.I.P. But all that besides, enjoy and stay safe.**


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